One Day in The Hamptons
by Love Still Stands
Summary: A couple of months before Serena returned, Chuck and Blair got a little closer in The Hamptons. Written for the Chuck and Blair fanwork exchange. One-shot.


**Author's Note: **This was written for the Chuck and Blair fanwork exchange as a gift for Kyla. I thought I'd post it here as well so it could keep my other one-shots company. Enjoy!

**One Day in The Hamptons**

Chuck Bass was sitting in the most fashionable bar on the most exclusive street in The Hamptons, and he was bored. It was mid-July, and having already bedded all the hottest women and boozed at all the most interesting places, he was now faced with two equally unappealing options: repeat himself, or behave himself. Even this morning's delivery from Savile Row – including the bespoke lemon-coloured trousers and white shirt he was wearing now – had failed to lift his spirits. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, surveying his surroundings with mild distaste.

And then Chuck spotted a familiar girl coming towards him. In another universe he might have thought of how unexpectedly pleased he was to see Blair Waldorf, one of the few people – perhaps the only person – who never bored him.

But in this universe Blair was wearing a pair of extremely chic, extremely short shorts, and Chuck's head was suddenly filled with all kinds of uninvited thoughts and images. Serena's long legs had always been the talk of the St Jude's Common Room, but it suddenly occurred to Chuck that they should have been discussing Blair all along. The pert breasts and neat little waist in that strappy yellow top; the beautifully curved calves and womanly thighs beneath the white shorts. Legs that were glowing with a subtle summer tan. Legs you'd want to take your time over, stroke, kiss…

Chuck's eyes must have glazed over, because Blair's opening words were:

"Chuck, are you high? You could be a little more careful, you know your father's new money clout counts for little east of Queens."

Blair took the seat next to him, placing her Ferragamo handbag on the table.

"Not high, Waldorf. Just pleased to see you. Although I must confess, I'm not used to seeing quite this much of you."

Blair blushed. "Our temporary maid doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the words 'dry-clean only'. Last night was a Marc Jacobs bloodbath. These shorts are all I have left until the courier from Bendel's arrives. Remind me never to let Dorota go on vacation again."

"And remind me to send Greta a cheque."

"If you're done being disgusting, I need your help with something. The Dean of Yale is in town-"

Chuck smiled wryly. "Where do you find out this stuff, ?"

"Please, I have contacts. Including you, actually. I need you to distract the Dean's daughter at McFarlane House tonight. A little flirtation, a little flattery, all very G-rated. Apparently she's a total car crash, so try to keep her away from the party favours."

"Ooh, tempting. But given that last year's dalliance with Georgina Sparks has filled my crazy quota for the next decade, I'll have to politely decline."

"Chuck. I need my shot at wowing Dean Myers. It's only a few months until Ivy Week and I want him to be asking for me personally."

"Why don't you ask Nathaniel for help?"

"He's sailing with the Captain until Monday, and he never goes to the McFarlane House party anyway. It was always…It was one of mine and Serena's traditions."

Blair tried to keep her face neutral, but her eyes gave her away. With an unfamiliar ache in his chest – a conscience, or something else, Chuck wondered vaguely – he said:

"Ok, Blair."

* * *

It was a beautiful night at McFarlane House, a huge, ivy-covered mansion that overlooked the sea. The air was filled with the sound of soft jazz music, and the scents of English roses and the occasional Cuban cigar. Dressed smartly in a pale blue suit and Willow pattern bowtie, Chuck realised quickly why Nate had never come to this party. Almost everyone was over forty, and the chatter seemed to revolve around fine wines and the property market. There was a general sense that nothing interesting was likely to happen, and everyone was okay with that.

Chuck caught sight of Blair chatting happily to a fifty-something man and a skinny blonde. Blair's long hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, and she was wearing a pretty blue-and-white dress, paired with dainty silver sandals. With no-one watching, for a moment Chuck let his eyes wander over her exposed neck and shoulders, the lightly tanned skin and the dark hair. Now that he'd noticed how gorgeous she was, it seemed that he couldn't stop noticing it.

"Evening Waldorf."

"Charles!" Blair said, smiling her usual less-than-genuine party smile. "Dean Myers, Sophia, this is my friend Charles Bass."

"I know your father by reputation of course," said the Dean, shaking Chuck's hand.

The delighted expression on Sophia's face indicated that she, too, knew the Bass name, but not from Forbes Magazine.

"I was just telling Sophia about the rose garden," Blair said pointedly. "Perhaps you could give her a tour, Charles."

"I'd be delighted," Chuck replied, proffering an arm, which Sophia immediately took.

As he walked away he glanced briefly back at Blair, who was already into her opening anecdote about her father's time at Yale.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, Chuck saw Blair excuse herself from Dean Myers and walk away from the other guests, heading away from the house. Her party smile was still present but there was a slight unsteadiness to the way she was walking that didn't bode well.

"Excuse me," Chuck said to Sophia, and went after Blair.

Chuck found Blair sitting on a bench beside the swimming pool. The combination of the fairy lights in the trees, the candles by the water's edge - and Blair - was rather lovely. He took a seat beside her, and quietly asked what had happened.

"It turns out that the news of my father's… exploits has made it to Yale. And some of the more conservative members of the board are less than thrilled at the idea of reminding people of the existing Waldorf-Yale connection, let alone forging a new one. I always thought Daddy would help me with Yale, but now – I don't know any more. Maybe I'm not going to be good enough. How can I get a place when it's so competitive, and they seem so set against me already?"

There were many things Chuck wanted to tell Blair in that moment. That in her shorts that afternoon she'd been sexy in a way he'd never seen before, sexy in a way that demanded worship and caresses and attention. That she could have Yale and anything else she wanted because she was the most intelligent, formidable, downright entertaining person he knew. That there were things about Nate that she didn't know, and that maybe there were men out there who would actually appreciate what they had in Blair, in that body, that mind, that strength.

But Chuck swallowed it all back, and said the one thing he could say that somehow encapsulated all the things he couldn't.

"Because you're Blair."

Blair smiled at him, a little stronger, a little happier.

"I am, aren't I?"

For a few minutes they said nothing, enjoying the distant music and the warmth of the evening air.

"Blair, I have to ask, why was this party a tradition for you and Serena? It's so…middle-aged. I genuinely think I could have more fun at school."

"It's the house. McFarlane House is one of the oldest in The Hamptons. With the sea and the roses – there's something so romantic about it. It feels like somewhere where people had great love affairs. Like something from the movies."

Chuck snorted.

"Oh come on Chuck. You don't think at a certain point you'll be bored of coke, and Latvians, and whatever else you do in hotel suites at three o'clock in the morning? You don't think you'll ever want - I don't know, a wife? A family?"

Chuck looked at her, and although he knew that Blair had "Nate Archibald" written on her heart, there was something in her face that made him say:

"Maybe. One day."


End file.
